Monsieur le Vicomte
by SailorKnightWing
Summary: ALW's Phantom of the Opera movie from Raoul's point of view. Elements from novel incorporated. Not updated regularly. Not really a songfic, but lyrics from the songs included as dialogue.
1. Prologue

He could hear nothing but the roaring waves. The young boy was walking along the July beach with his aunt and though he knew she was speaking he didn't listen. Nothing but the sweet noise of the water folding over itself penetrated his ears. Nothing, until he heard a voice.

It was the sweetest thing he had ever heard. A soft, high voice that sounded like the freshest spring water filled the air. Several yards in front of him stood a young girl no older than himself, her face obscured by distance. Slowly the sound of the ocean died out and only the voice filled his head.

"Shame on you, Freddy, your old heart's gone wild!; Cecilia Lind is still only a child; as pure as a flower, unblemished by sin.; 'I'm soon seventeen,' said Cecilia Lind."

Suddenly a muffled shout of defiance brought the ocean bellowing back into his head. The girl's powder pink headscarf had caught the breeze and floated out into the ocean. Though she reached out her arms she was too late, and the boy knew what to do.

"It's all right, I'll go and fetch your scarf out of the sea," he shouted across the distance and ran out into the thundering ocean, still in his walking suit. The water was difficult to walk through until his shoes fell off. Losing the anchors on his feet he tried to swim to the sash that was rippling out of sight, but he was tumbled back toward the shore by a particularly angry wave. He could hear the girl's laughter piercing the howl of the waves and was that much more determined to retrieve her garment.

With a reach of faith, his hand grasped the pink scarf. Surprised by his catch, he was caught off guard and was beaten back to the shore by another wrathful wave. Between his legs that were pushed back over his head he saw the girl leaning over him, though her face was shadowed by the sun directly behind her. He could hear her pure laughter and joined in. After righting himself he handed back her scarf which was as soaked through as he was. She giggled again and kissed his cheek in gratitude, causing him to turn a deep red.

"My name's Raoul, ma'am…" he said obligingly. He hesitated, then "What's you're name?" He didn't make eye contact.

"Christine…"


	2. Before the Meeting

Raoul was awoken a loud rapping at his door. Whatever the dream was, it faded from his mind as he came to terms with the fact that he was now awake. Even turning in his bed with a pillow crammed over his head couldn't block out the incessant knocking on his door.

His sister Amee burst through the door and shuffled over to his bed. Her pale but strong hands quickly landed on her corset-shaped hips in annoyance before tearing the pillow off his head. He regretted her ever coming home for the weekend with her husband.

"Raoul, please! You're twenty years old! You can't spend your life in bed! You're due at the Opera Populaire in two hours and you're still a mess." She shook her head and smacked him once with the pillow, causing him to curl up even further. She turned her head back towards the door, her golden curls catching the light from the window as she did. "Adeliz! Come help me get our baby brother out of bed!"

Adeliz, who was also home for the weekend with her husband, scuttled in. She looked exactly like Amee, but softer and gentler. Though they were identical twins, Adeliz was always the kinder and Amee the fiercer. They wore suspiciously similar dresses, the only real difference being Amee's was red with a blue apron and bustle and Adeliz's was the reverse.

"Raoul, dear, you really must try to get up. Mm. Firmin and André are expecting you soon and you really don't want to keep them waiting. You know how they can get…"

It was true, the two men could get rather loud when things didn't go quite the way they wished, especially Gilles André who held a particularly large fire for a man only five and a half feet tall. Though they were Nouveau Riche, they still had many of the middle-class mannerisms. Still, he liked the two and they were good men. It would be rude to keep them waiting.

Upon sitting up his hair was immediately attacked by the twins. If there was one thing they loved, it was playing with his long blond hair. It was they who insisted he keep it long and, seeing little reason not to, complied. He was, however, in no mood to let them comb and braid it and tried to swat them away though they persisted.

"Amee! Adeliz! He's a grown man and can do his own hair. Shoo, both of you!" It was Philippe, the oldest of the Chagnys. His strong frame filled the doorway casually but sternly, displaying his disapproval of his sisters. The twins gave a sour look to their older brother and scurried out of the room. Raoul let out a sigh of relief as Philippe invited himself in and sat next to him. "You really can't let them push you around, little brother."

Raoul smoothed his hair down after the girls had left it a mess and looked to his brother. "I know, but they made a point. I am to meet the new owners of the Opera Populaire soon." He paused, thoughtfully. "Say, why aren't you or Father going? Why does it have to be me?"

Philippe smiled and mussed Raoul's recently smoothed hair. "Because Father and I are going to the Louvre to show our support. It's your task to go to the Opera House to show our family's support there. If we're going to support the arts, we need to make a good impression. So get up and get ready." He gave a little wave as he stood and walked through the door haughtily.

Raoul made a sour face before moving to his dressing table. His brother had always thought himself superior to Raoul and, though Raoul would never admit it, he was. He was handsomer, better spoken and more popular than he. Philippe had just recently turned fourty but he still had the handsome visage of a thirty-year-old. Though they had just recently moved back to their Paris home from their house in Rouen Philippe was already popular among the ladies, especially La Sorelli, the prima ballerina of the Opera Populaire.

That's why Raoul was so upset to go to the opera instead of Philippe. He didn't like meeting new people. Speaking in front of crowds made him nervous. But, being a member of the wealthy de Chagny family he had no choice. He brushed his hair down and threw on the first outfit in his closet—a beige plaid waistcoat and a long brown overcoat— and hurried out the door to his carriage and footman.


	3. Meet the Managers

Raoul handed the reigns of the carriage back to his footman before hopping off the carriage. He never liked people doing things for him so he insisted on driving himself to the Opera Populaire. He was immediately greeted by the new owners of the establishment: the rather large Richard Firmin and the peculiarly tiny Gilles André.

"Vicomte, welcome!" Firmin greeted him genially as he ushered him around some chickens in the stable entrance. They didn't walk long before they were joined by the retiring owner of the Opera, M. Lefevre.

"Gentlemen, welcome! As you know I am M. Lefevre. If you don't mind, Monsieur le Vicomte, I'd like to introduce Mm. Firmin and André first, as they will be spending more time with the staff and performers."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that!" André said slyly. He winked and nudged Raoul with his elbow. "This young fellow may be quite popular with the dancing girls." Raoul rolled his eyes discreetly and entered last through the door, allowing the three mustachioed men to enter before him.

M. Lefevre's voice faded off as Raoul lagged behind the three men. He was busy looking at the open rafters and general rusticity of the backstage. These were things one never saw from the seats. Something about the openness and the shadows the wooden ladders and beams was… disquieting. He was lost in a daze until he was awoken by a funny-looking man in a bright red Rococo-style getup and a big white wig. He was confused a bit as to whether he was a steward or an actor, but when he spoke he knew he was not a member of the troupe.

"Good morning, Monsieur le Vicomte. May I take your overcoat?" He had a very prim voice that made his silly attire even funnier. Raoul sighed and handed him his coat and a little money for a tip. "Are you alright, Monsieur? You seem a bit ill."

"No, I'm fine thank you," he lied as he heard his name spoken by M. André. He made his way to the center of the stage with the retiring and new managers with a partial false, partial nervous smile on his face.

"My parents and I are proud to support all the arts, especially the world renowned Opera Populaire," he said obligingly. He still felt some resentment toward his siblings from earlier that morning and didn't feel the need to mention them.

A woman in disturbing garb approached him with an outstretched hand and a fake smile. He realized just how strange stage makeup looks up close but tried to bear it. He took her hand and she made a rehearsed curtsey before he kissed her hand politely.

"Vicomte, Gentlemen, Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons," M. Lefevre introduced. Raoul tried to picture her without the heavy makeup but couldn't. He heard cheering from the back of the crowd and then a cough from a man in equally disturbing garb. "Signor Ubaldo Piangi," M. Lefevre introduced. The fat little man was even harder to look at.

Regardless, he had to speak. "An honor, signor. I believe I'm keeping you from your rehearsal," he said to the maestro. Then, to the crowd, "I will be here this evening to share your great triumph. My apologies, monsieur," he said to the maestro again and was thanked. He turned to leave but was followed by M. Lefevre.

"Thank you, indeed, for the wonderful words. So inspiring and encouraging..." the retired manager said, but Raoul wasn't paying attention. He passed a particular pair of girls that made him turn but not stop. One looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn't place from where so he let it out of his mind.

M. Lefevre had just finished speaking by the time they reached the side door, though Raoul had no idea what he had been saying. The steward with his overcoat was there and he took it back, nodding to him before he turned back to M. Lefevre. "Well, Monsieur, I hope I shall see you tonight at the performance." He simply nodded and hurried to the stables in the back to his carriage to avoid farther conversation.

On the way home he allowed the footman to drive while he sat back and thought. The strange brunette crawled back into his head. She was very pretty, but not so extremely pretty that she would stand out in his mind. And it wasn't that neither she nor her friend wore the extreme stage makeup. Something about her eyes…


	4. Lost in Thought

Raoul burst through the door past his mother, aunt, Adeliz and her rather portly husband in the parlor, hurried up the stairs, into his room and unintentionally slammed the door. He was unexpectedly tired and didn't feel like talking to anyone. With a sigh he fell down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. He hadn't gotten a very good look at the girl but could picture her eyes clearly. They seemed to stare back at him.

After what seemed like a few moments Philippe let himself into the room. "Raoul, do you know what time it is? It's seven! You've been in your room for hours and you need to be at the opera in one. Are you all right?"

Raoul snapped out of his trance and shot a glare at Philippe. He was in no mood to talk to his brother. "I'm fine, please leave. I'll be ready, don't worry." He paused a moment before catching his attention at the door. "Philippe, do you remember that summer by the beach? Those ten years ago, before we went to Rouen?"

Philippe rounded on his heels to face Raoul again. "Little brother, I've been to that beach many times, I can't remember any single visit. Now get dressed, you must hurry. Unless you want me to call our sisters to help…" He trailed off as he closed the door, followed by a pillow hurled where his head had been.

As he made his way to the dresser Raoul was finally able to push the girl out of his head. He was excited about seeing Hannibal. He had seen it when he was little in Rouen at the Théâtre des Arts and was fascinated by the flashy costumes and artificial elephant. Now he was older and could appreciate the actual story rather than the gaudy façade. The girl didn't enter his mind once as he finished dressing in his evening coat and hurried downstairs.

Everyone in the parlor was still in their day attire. Raoul paused and stared at them. "Why aren't any of you ready?"

Adeliz's husband Étienne glanced lazily at Raoul then back to his cigar. The craning of his neck seemed to pull his various chins farther than they were intended to go. "No, we will remain here. The opera has never interested us, has it Dear?" he responded without even looking back to whom he was speaking. Adeliz nodded mildly and stared at her wringing hands.

Raoul knew this was a lie. Adeliz loved the opera even more than he did and she always had. He knew Étienne was merely stepping on her because he was too lazy to get out of that chair. Girls should be treated as princesses, especially his sisters. Adeliz had such terrible confidence as it was so when Étienne essentially told her to marry him she felt she had no choice. Now he was rolling all over her in his obese pride. Nothing had been the same since the twins were married and their husbands seemed to only magnify anything that was wrong in their personalities. Amee grew more cynical and Adeliz more timid, something neither needed. Not only that, but his mother and aunt weren't about to do anything either. They were going to let Étienne walk all over Adeliz and let Raoul go alone.

Something snapped in his head. Raoul was tired of the disrespect and rudeness in the family. His family still treated him as a child and his brothers-in-law were no better. He stamped his foot on the ground like the child the thought he wasn't and shouted. "Fine! I don't need any of you! I'll go alone!" He reached for his cape and top hat from the rack but knocked the hat off onto the floor in his haste. He reached for it before anyone could laugh and slammed the door behind him as he stormed out.


	5. The Gala

The grand theatre was filling up quickly. It was if the Seine was noisily and easily flooding in through the doors and settling gently onto the rows of seats. Men and women of all shapes and sizes were flitting about the main hall and their seats like a thousand hummingbirds. An overwhelming smell of flowery perfume filled the foyer and made an allergy-prone attendant's eyes water uncontrollably. The streaks from his tears rolling down his powdered face made the young women laugh and he felt hotly embarrassed.

Raoul had some trouble squeezing between patrons to make it up the steps outside the Opera. He was exceptionally tall and his top hat soared above the others, though it didn't help his position in the crowd. He was still angry with his family and didn't notice the amorous looks the young women and the dirty looks their suitors were paying him.

By the time he finally made it into the foyer the attendants were barely visible beneath the heaps of overcoats, so Raoul took his with him. It wasn't long until he was ambushed by MM. André and Firmin. They were unnecessarily excited about the gala and quite energetic.

"Oh, M. le Vicomte! We are so excited to have you here!" André exclaimed as he violently shook Raoul's hand. Firmin snatched the coat from Raoul's arm and carelessly tossed it on an already-overloaded attendant, from whom Raoul retrieved it with an apologetic look. The managers were quick to shuffle him into the stairwell toward his private box. Box five.

"There's a special treat tonight, Monsieur. One I think you'll like," Firmin said as he winked slyly to Raoul, but he wouldn't divulge any farther. So Raoul sat confused and patient until the opera started.

The first two acts progressed quickly through Hannibal's young life, his ascent to leader of the Carthaginians and his first two attacks on Rome. It wasn't entirely accurate, but that was to be expected to make it fit into an opera production. The performance itself was good, and the intense makeup Raoul thought so strange up close made much more sense at a distance where it was just enough for him to see them. It wasn't until the end of act two did something bother him.

He recognized the song from when he reluctantly interrupted rehearsal earlier that day and heard La Carlotta's high-pitched voice sear through to the stables. But this wasn't La Carlotta on stage for Elissa's introduction. She wasn't wearing enough makeup for him to see her clearly, but she was much smaller and paler than the diva. Her voice was light and child-like, even a little unsure. Even though she sounded like she would die of fright her bird-like voice soared through the theater and over the chorus. He knew the voice, but couldn't place from where. He squinted in an attempt to see her face but could not. It was one of the few times he wished he had a front seat.

The curtain closed after the chorus, Pang and the mystery girl dramatically finished "Hear the drums! Hannibal comes!" and the ballet girls spun around the papier mache elephant to the floor. As soon as the music stopped Raoul rushed down the stairs to the foyer in hopes to find the managers and ask who the new leading soprano was. But neither of the managers could be found in the sea of people gathering in the entrance to talk about the production. Every conversation seemed to echo what was on Raoul's mind. Who was the new girl? Where was La Carlotta? Why was one of the ballet lines short one girl?

Attendants rang bells and the crowd flowed back into the theater. Raoul would have to wait until after the performance to ask someone who the girl was. He might even be able to meet her.

The third act progressed about Hannibal planning on bringing his elephants to Italy to defeat the Romans and Elissa, played by the mystery girl, comforting and advising him. It was obvious she was the driving force behind the Carthaginian's eventual victory, a twist on history that was probably rewritten just for La Carlotta. The girl grew progressively braver and surer of herself until she was a true prima donna. At the end of the second act Raoul looked over to managers in the opposite box, who were whispering frantically to each other. They seemed nervous.

"Think of me. Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye…"

It hit him. He could finally place the voice. Raoul knew he had heard it before, that it wasn't just a trick of his mind.

"But if you can still remember, stop and think of me…"

That day on the beach, all those years ago. "Cecilia Lind" intertwined beautifully with the aria with the same voice singing both. The pink scarf around the young girl's neck, the blue ribbons down the older girl's skirt.

"There will never be a day when I won't think of you!"

_Can it be? Can it be Christine?_ Raoul's jaw was dropped as he realized it was Christine Daae from his childhood. They'd been such good friends as children, how could he forget her? He'd fallen in love with that voice when he was eight, or as close to love as an eight year old could get, and now he remembered why. He rose to applaud and cheered for her along with the rest of the audience and hurried down the stairs to the main floor. _Long ago, it seemed so long ago. How young and innocent we were! She may not remember me, but I remember her._

By the time he opened the lower door she had completed a particularly difficult cadenza and he nearly kicked himself for missing it. He applauded along with the rest of the audience again and watched as they threw roses on the stage at her feet. He could tell she was smiling and, though he could not tell for sure, he thought he caught her eye for a few moments before the curtain closed on her. In the minute or so before the curtain reopened he turned to the door attendant.

"Who is that girl?" Raoul asked with false ignorance, "And what happened to La Carlotta?"

The attendant glanced at him with an arrogant look, though he had obviously enjoyed her performance as well. "I do not know her name, monsieur. All I know is she was a chorus girl and was recommended by Mme. Giry to take La Carlotta's place when she walked out this afternoon. Something to do with the Opera Ghost scaring her away." He turned his attention back to the stage where the curtain was opening for act four.

"Opera Ghost? What's that?" Raoul asked, but it was clear that the attendant would not speak again during the performance. So he took it as a superstitious slur and finished watching the opera from the door of the main level. Elissa was completely absent from the final act, in which Hannibal and his men and elephants crossed the Alps to defeat the Romans. He paid little attention to what was going on on the stage and could only think of Christine behind the scenes.

At the end of the performance, the entire cast came out onto the stage, including Christine, for a final bow. She was glowing and easily the most applauded member on the stage. The curtains closed a final time and he rushed out of the auditorium in hopes to beat the swarm of people.


	6. Reunion

Leaving early didn't help at all. Raoul was still drafted into the swarm of people flooding out of the theater and into the foyer. It was nearly impossible to walk through the crowd, who all seemed to be heading backstage along with him. He noticed that other members of the cast were celebrating with the patrons, but nowhere could he find Christine. She wouldn't be hard to find as she was still in her large dress from Act 3 at the final bow and wouldn't have had enough time to change. But he couldn't find her glittering figure anywhere.

He finally stopped to ask one of the chorus girls where she was. He was once again conscious of the strong makeup but didn't say anything. The girl was thoroughly drunk, but was still able to slur out that she was likely in the prima donna dressing room, down the hall and on the right. He thanked her, unheeded, and started making his way to the back.

He once again passed the main entrance and noticed Adeliz standing near the door, alone. Though he was anxious to see Christine, he was surprised and concerned about his sister looking so nervous and alone. He made his way over to her and she didn't notice him until he was right in front of her.

"Adeliz, what are you doing here? Are you alone?"

Adeliz was surprised and nervous, like she didn't know what to do with herself. "I really wanted to see the opera, but Ètienne wouldn't take me. He went to bed early and I came here as soon as I could. I came in about halfway through Act 2. Who was that girl who played Elissa? All the posters said it would be Carlotta but I know that wasn't her."

Raoul blushed a little and hoped Adeliz didn't notice. "Do you remember, all those years ago, when we were at the beach near here? Remember the little girl I would always play with when I was ten? I think it's that girl, Christine. I'm not sure but I'd like to see if I can meet her. Care to join me?"

Adeliz looked away ashamedly. "No, I think I had better get home. If Ètienne finds out that I've been out he'll scold me again."

Raoul looked at his sister with pity. He drew her close in a hug and pet her head. "I'm proud of you for what you did tonight. No matter what happens always be yourself." He could feel her trembling in his arms and when she looked up at him her cheeks were tear streaked. She smiled at him and left as they waved to each other. Once she was out of sight, he turned to continue his mission.

The crowd had cleared out a little, but it was still difficult to maneuver around the mass of people. He had a little trouble remembering where the drunken dancer had told him the dressing room was, but was able to find it. Unfortunately, he was immediately ambushed by the owners of the theater.

"Ah, Vicomte, I think we've made quite a discovery with Miss Daae!" Firmin said, rather loudly, his face half-obscured by a massive bouquet of pink and white flowers.

"Perhaps we can present her to you, dear Vicomte?" André piped in. They were both very excited and seemingly a little drunk

Raoul put on a hopefully not-too false smile. "Gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind, this is one visit I should prefer to make unaccompanied." He took the flowers from Firmin and thanked him. He figured the managers didn't see Christine as anything more than a meal ticket and, had he known she would be there, he would have brought flowers himself. Whatever they said next was mixed in with the chatter of the crowd as he opened the door to the dressing room.

There she was. The candlelight glittered on her jeweled hairpieces and made her seem to glow. The beautiful rose she held at her mirror seemed to wilt beside her. He was stopped in his tracks at first, stunned by her beauty and unsure of what to say. Would she remember me? What would make her recognize me? Then he remembered the songs her father Gustav used to sing to them in their attic.

"Little Lotte let her mind wander…" he said softly, repeating the lines from their favorite story when they were little. Little Lotte became his nickname for her because they so loved the story. She turned when she heard him and smiled that giant, beautiful grin he remembered. "Little Lotte thought, 'Am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?'"

"Raoul!" She said in her timid, airy way. So she did remember him.

"Or of riddles or frogs?" he continued as he made his way to her. He began remembering her face from years ago and how beautiful it had become in ten years. It was beautiful as a child but now there was something different. A strange mixture of joy and misery played on her features and somehow they made her glow.

"Those picnics in the attic…" she reminisced, smiling.

"Or of chocolates?" he finished. He was kneeling beside her now, looking up into her doe eyes.

"Papa playing the violin…" she continued. That had been his favorite part because when he played, she sang. Her voice filled the attic and sounded beautiful, even among the dreary wood and dust. It had seemed like heaven on Earth when they were there together.

"As we read to each other, dark stories of the north," he remembered. The stories the Daaes brought with them from Sweden always seemed strange and exotic to the Paris-born boy. They were always full of demons and romance and adventure. He had dreamed of going on these adventures with Christine some day.

"'No, what I love best,' Lotte said, 'is when I'm asleep in my bed…" she continued, still smiling. She broke into the familiar tune Gustav used to sing when they reached this part of the story. "And the Angel of Music sings songs in my head." They repeated the line together and he rose to hug her. She was so small and frail that he was worried for a moment.

"You sang like an angel tonight," he told her. The smell of her dark brown curls filled the air and he felt instantly comforted. It was just like ten years ago. When they released each other, she looked at him excitedly.

"My father said 'When I am in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you.'" Her face lost a little of the glee but none of the excitement. "My father is dead, Raoul. And I have been visited by the Angel of Music."

"Oh, no doubt of it," he replied. She must have had a divine influence to have a voice so beautiful. "And now, we go to celebrate," he told her as he began to rise to his feet.

"No, Raoul," she said, suddenly nervous. "The Angel of Music is very strict." She seemed to be nervous about going out after such a large performance. She must be afraid of the crowds.

"Well I shan't keep you up late," he replied, and laughed. He figured she must have been talking about Mdm. Giry. Even to those not involved in the opera knew of her strictness of her girls. But he also knew she was likely to give Christine a break after such an overwhelming success.

"Raoul, no," she pleaded again. She looked more nervous and he couldn't understand why she would be so upset over the punishment Mdm. Giry would give her. He would take any blame that might come to her.

"You must change. I'll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte," he said as he made his way to the door. He hoped the short time limit would make her forget the possible scolding from the ballet instructor. He heard her plead again as he shut the door behind him.

-- I had forgotten this chapter in my original upload. The chapters should be in the correct order now. I apologize for the confusion.


	7. Mysterious Sounds

Raoul knocked on Christine's dressing room door two minutes after leaving. He had already hurried back from the stables and asked his coachman to hurry and set the horses up for a long ride. He planned on taking her to a cozy Italian restaurant about twenty-five kilometers away, far from the bustle of Paris and any fans who might bother them. He figured the long ride would give them time to catch up and they could reminisce in peace in the little restaurant.

However, when he knocked on the door he heard a shaky voice from inside call "Please wait a moment longer, I'm not yet ready." It was obviously Christine's voice but all the strength had vanished. It was higher pitched and trembling. "Christine, are you all right?" Raoul asked. He was getting worried about her, but when she assured him she was fine and to just wait a few more minutes he walked back toward the door.

Who did Raoul spy walking out of the theater but Philippe, his older brother, with La Sorelli, the prima ballerina of the opera company, on his arm? They were laughing gaily and talking about her performance that either he saw or was lying about seeing very well. This contradiction to what he was told earlier, that Philippe would be at the Louvre, compounded with the other trying events of the day drained him. He wished he had the stamina of his brother, or at least the cunning. He didn't even bother calling out to his Philippe, he would have been either ignored or teased. So he wearily made his way back to Christine's dressing room as they were the last ones out.

When he got to the door he reached to knock but was immediately stopped by a strange sound coming from the other side. He wasn't sure what it was at first, it sounded somewhat like a cello. He couldn't make out exactly what it was but it was soothing and calming. It streamed in through his ears and swirled in his head. Suddenly he felt a hard jolt and was awakened from his trance. Not realizing he was moving forward, he had run into the door. The jolt made him realize it was a voice he was hearing. A man's voice.

"Who's is that voice? Who is that in there?!" he shouted as he tried the knob, to no avail. Christine must have locked it while she was dressing. Oh no, what if some licentious admirer had broken in on her while she was dressing? Thoughts were racing though his head as he continued to rattle the handle and shout to her. "Christine! Christine!!"

Somehow he loosened the handle enough that the door opened and he stumbled in after losing his balance at the sudden giving of the door. He looked around but nothing was there and the room was silent. The room was still filled with flowers and various gifts from enthusiastic fans, but there was no sign of Christine anywhere. "Christine? Christine, where are you?" He begged her pardon as he looked behind the dressing screen, but she wasn't there. There was no one there but himself. The room was dark and looked like it had been abandoned already. "She must have already left the room. Was that my imagination?" he pondered as he left the room, very confused. He only half noticed the pretty red rose with the black satin ribbon lying lonely on her dressing table.

As he shut the door Raoul heard the clacking of high heels heading his way. Hoping it was Christine he hurried toward the sound and bumped directly into Mme Giry. His heart sank as the dour woman glared up at him, though he couldn't help noticing how handsome she looked with her incredibly long hair down.

"M. le Vicomte, my goodness! Mind where you are going! You might have knocked down this poor old woman." Somehow Raoul thought even after fifty years she would be in better health than him. She was quite the strict ballet instructor and kept herself fit for the part. "Where are you off to in such a hurry? You should not be here, it's very late."

"Have you seen Christine Daae?" he asked, rather more quickly than he intended. He didn't want to let on that he was worried but he felt her eyes bore right through him. "I was supposed to take her to supper but she's not in her dressing room."

Mme Giry bristled ever so slightly but kept her composure. "Oh yes. She asked me to inform you that she was not feeling well and was going to retire to bed early. I'm sorry, maybe another time. Now shoo!" For such a small woman, Mme Giry was strong enough to turn Raoul around and give him a good shove toward the door.

"Wait, can't I see her?" Raoul protested as he tried to regain balance. Before he could turn back around for her answer she had shoved him again.

"Good heavens, no! How improper for a young man to see a young woman alone in her bedroom!" She continued to shove until they reached the end of the hallway where she gave one final shove and turned to leave. Raoul wondered how rough she must be on the poor ballerinas on a daily basis as he made his way to the door.

Raoul didn't want to go home. He didn't want to see his brother or Étienne. He didn't want to see anyone but Christine, and she was the one person he couldn't see. He shot out his fist to punch the outside wall of the building in frustration but stopped himself, realizing the pain that would occur if his soft flesh hit the hard stone. So he merely scuffed his shoe on the steps like a schoolboy.

He paced for a few moments, trying to figure out what the sound that he had thought to be a man's voice might have been. Could it really have been a man in there? Impossible. Was Christine expanding her range to nearly a man's baritone? Even less possible. His final conclusion was either he heard someone practicing a cello in a nearby room or he imagined the whole thing.

Raoul's head hurt. He was through for the night. He would have lied down on the steps right there and fallen asleep had he not been afraid of being robbed. He didn't want to go home, he didn't have any friends in the town, and he didn't have anywhere to go. With no other option he wandered the streets until he came across a tavern. He wasn't planning on drinking his problems away but he figured he might as well get something to eat, since he apparently wasn't going to get supper any other way.

Regardless of his intentions, Raoul became drunk anyway. If being drunk made normal people find women more attractive then he was far from normal. Everything seemed to blur together and he couldn't focus on anything. He had hoped that the blurring would have gotten the voice out of his head but it just made it worse. Now the background noise didn't even seem to compete. Just the pure melodic sound that seemed to be just as clear as when he was sober.

He checked his watch and, after struggling to focus on it, found that it was 4:30 AM. He had been up all night and could feel every minute of it. He finally decided to make his way home and realized he had left the coachman in the stables at the opera house. He figured the man would have gone home by now and decided to walk instead. Maybe the warm air would settle his reeling head.

Raoul opened his front door as quietly as he could and peered in. No one was in the foyer or sitting room and no lights were on anywhere in the house. He took his time getting up to his room, partially to avoid waking anyone and partially to avoid tripping on something and breaking his leg.

When he finally made it to his room, five minutes later than had he been sober and his path lit, he opened his door widely. He swung it nearly shut again as soon as he noticed something on his bed. Something human-shaped. He peered in again and, when he was confident that it wasn't going to attack him but rather asleep, he tiptoed in. Upon closer inspection, he recognized the slight build of Adeliz. She had fallen asleep on his bed, probably waiting for him to come home. Raoul's heart warmed and his mind sobered somewhat as he remembered when he would do the same to her when he was a child. He kissed her lightly on the forehead before making his way down the hallway to a guest bedroom to sleep. He was so tired that he didn't even mind Étienne's snoring from the bed he was unknowingly sleeping in alone.

About 15.5 miles


	8. A Note

A stream of light pierced through Raoul's eyelid and awoke him the next morning. He wondered why sunlight was beaming through his bedroom's northern-facing windows before finally remembering he was in a guest room facing east. He found himself incredibly groggy, even for him, but couldn't remember why.

The previous night had been a blur. Music, panic, a surprisingly strong little woman, waiting asleep on his bed. That was all he could remember. He had vague memories of a bar and quickly concluded that he had been drunk, though found it odd that he didn't have the next-morning headache Pilippe often complained of.

He walked through his own personal fog back into his room and found Adeliz gone. The only sound in the room was his clock, which caught his attention. It was 10:00 in the morning. Raoul was surprised because he never slept in that late. Then he noticed a letter beside the clock.

It was strange enough that the edges of the envelope were black, and Raoul's first thought was that someone in his family had died. But the seal really caught his attention. It wasn't the decorative C of the Chagny family, but rather a rather large, raised skull. This didn't help deter him from the funeral idea, but it did make it seem rather bizarre. He decided to open it and probably learn of the death of a distant relative he'd never met.

The first thing he noticed was the childlike scrawl of red ink. It looked like someone had written it with a match but the way the ink laid was definitely from a pen. Perhaps the young child of the deceased had written the letter? If so, that would be a cruel way to force the child to cope. Suddenly a word jumped out at him. 'Daae'.

'Do not fear for Miss Daae, the Angel of Music has her under his wing. Make no attempt to see her again.'

It wasn't signed and no address was given. Just the two sentences. The first thing that ran through Raoul's head was the music he had heard in Christine's room the night before. It had never really left his mind but now it was in the front of his consciousness. He forced it back and tried to think of a logical explanation for the letter. Hadn't she said something about an Angel of Music when he visited her after the performance?

After a few moments he decided that the new managers had sent it to him as a prank. Regardless, Raoul didn't like being made a fool of, especially when it involved Christine. He threw on the first clothes in his closet- a beige waistcoat, navy jacket and plaid tie he didn't even bother to tie all the way- and stormed out of his room. Right into Bertram, Amee's husband.

"Oh, Raoul! So sorry, so sorry," he stammered, never looking up. He reminded Raoul of himself when he was younger, though Bertram was ten years older. Short, skinny with shaggy brown hair, a long nose and large, round glasses completed the look of a mouse, which oddly enough fit his timid personality perfectly. He was somewhat like Adeliz but could be firm when he wanted. Just not with Amee. It was Raoul's conviction that Amee had bullied Bertram into marrying her in fear of becoming a spinster, and he was too afraid of her to resist.

"No, it was my fault Bertram. Don't worry," Raoul responded, putting a hand on his brother-in-law's shoulder before hurrying down the hall. Bertram shouted after him to be careful or he'd hurt himself but he pretended not to hear.

At the bottom of the stairs Raoul almost bumped into Philippe. After all his recent collisions he was starting to get the hang of stopping on a dime. Philippe was about to say something but Raoul broke away and headed to the door again. This time Philippe caught his arm and nearly made him trip.

"Raoul, where were you last night? We were worried!" His words were sincere but somehow Philippe had never mastered the art of portraying sincerity. Everything that came out of his mouth sounded flippant, even when he really meant them. Raoul didn't understand this.

"I was out late, but I came home and I'm okay. Now let me go, I have business at the opera," Raoul said sternly as he pulled away from his brother's grip. He didn't turn when Philippe shouted to him to wait as he hurried out the door.

Raoul let the driver take the reins this time while he sat in the back and pondered the letter. Angel of Music? Had Mm. Firmin and André been listening at the door? And surely neither of their writings were so illegible, unless they wrote with the left hand. Why would they do something like this? Did they not want his family's patronage? Was it really from them?

When he arrived at the front doors, Raoul saw Firmin's cab turning the corner. Good, he'd have a chance to ask what on Earth they were doing. But as he stepped out of his own cab, a young newsboy practically threw a paper in his face. Not really seeing the boy, he threw some change where he imagined the dirty little boy was and grabbed the paper.

Upon moving it to a readable distance from his face, Raoul read the headline. 'Mystery After Gala Night' it read, followed by a page-long article and drawing of Christine from the performance last night. He read the first paragraph and dropped the paper to the ground. She was missing.


	9. More Notes

Pushing aside and bursting through heavy doors is an easy feat for a worried man. "Where is she?" he shouted, even before spotting André and Firmin on the second level balcony, apparently arguing about something.

Firmin turned, surprised at his sudden outburst. "You mean Carlotta?"

Raoul rolled his eyes. 'Yes, I mean Carlotta. You idiot," he thought, but somehow it came out "I mean Miss Daae, where is she?" He continued up the grand staircase as they hurried to meet him.

André looked just as confused as Firmin. "Well how should we know?"

Raoul was getting frustrated now. Why were they still playing this game? "I want an answer! I take it that you sent me this note?"

"What's all this nonsense?" Firmin replied, followed by André with "Of course not!" "Don't look at us!" Firmin continued before being interrupted by André again with another "Of course not!"

Now Raoul was angry. They insisted on pretending. "She's not with you then?" he asked sarcastically.

André piped up with yet another "Of course not!" before Firmin admitted "We're in the dark!"

"Monsieur, don't argue! Isn't this the letter you wrote?" Raoul said angrily, offering it to the men. André was closer and the one to take it.

"And what is it that we're meant to have wrote?" Firmin asked angrily, then equally as angrily corrected himself. André read the note aloud to Firmin, and they both looked even more confused than before. Raoul stared at them and got the sinking feeling that they really didn't know what was going on. "If you didn't write it, then who did?" Raoul asked. Then there was another loud noise at the door.

"Where is he?" a familiar Italian accent rang through the foyer. It was Carlotta in an atrocious pink and purple getup. She looked like a poodle that fell into some pink sugar. Oddly enough, her entourage, which included Piangi, included two white poodles and she seemed to blend in. No one else seemed put-off by her garish garb.

"Ah, welcome back!" Firmin said, happy to see at least one soprano back. She, however, didn't share in the sentiment.

"Your precious patron, where is he?" She shouted again. Raoul was a bit confused since she had a clear view of him but realized her frilly hat might be blocking her vision.

"What is it now?" he asked, wearily. Anytime Carlotta was around, all the energy seemed to drain from everyone else in the room and come out through her.

"I have your letter. A letter which I rather resent!" She shouted, waving another note in the air. Raoul just looked at her. He couldn't possibly have written the note, he had gone to bed the previous night.

Firmin looked at him smugly. "And did you send it?"

"Of course not!" Raoul replied, offended. He suddenly felt guilty for accusing the managers of writing a note that he now realized they hadn't. Luckily, they seemed to have forgiven him and were now on his side, risking the loss of their last chance of performing the night's opera "Il Muto."

"As if he would!" André defended, much to Carlotta's surprise. She grew angry that anyone would contradict her.

"You didn't send it?" she asked, expecting a confession. It didn't come.

"Of course not!" Raoul defended, though admittedly he was starting to feel like André, repeating himself like that. Firmin stepped in, trying to clear the situation. "What's going on?"

"You dare to tell me that this is not the letter you sent?" Carlotta said angrily, thrusting the note to Raoul. He took it and met her eyes, challengingly.

"And what is it that I'm meant to have sent?" The lightning between their eyes could have set the whole opera house aflame. He opened the letter and read aloud. "'Your days at the Opera Populaire are numbered. Christine Daae will be singing on your behalf tonight. Be prepared for a great misfortune should you attempt to take her place…" He trailed off at the end. Clearly something was amiss and the clues didn't point to anyone.

Raoul watched as the managers each took Carlotta by an arm and started leading her up the staircase, probably to persuade her to perform for them, and agreeing that Christine was turning out to be more of a handful than they had anticipated. He turned his attention back to Carlotta's note and noticed the black rim and seal were the same as his own. Then more footsteps echoed through the hall and he looked to the bottom of the staircase. It was Madame Giry and the cute blonde girl he had seen with Christine the first time he walked by her. Seeing them side by side he recognized her as Mme. Giry's daughter.

"Miss Daae has returned," Mme. Giry said, her deep voice resonating through the suddenly stagnant air. There was a bit of a pause among the people in the room, all for different reasons.

"No worse for wear as far as we're concerned," Firmin stated. Raoul thought this a bit of a strange way to phrase 'We don't know if she's okay' but he let it go. She apparently understood. "Where precisely is she now?" André asked.

"I thought it best she was alone," Mme. Giry told them and the girl added "She needed rest." Raoul could see in her eyes how upset she was.

"May I see her?" Raoul asked, hopefully. But Mme. Giry shot him down with a stern "No, Monsieur, she will see no one." By the way the blonde looked away it was obvious that she had been told the same.

"Will she sing?" both Carlotta and Piangi asked together, almost falling forward onto the stairs.

"Here, I have a note," Mme. Giry said as she held it out to whoever would take it. Her daughter looked at her, apparently not knowing about it.

"Let me see it!" Raoul said, then realized André and Carlotta had said it at the same time. Firmin was the only one to say "Please" however, and ultimately got the note. He opened the note and read it aloud.

"'Gentlemen, I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature detailing how my theater is to be run. You have not followed my instructions so far. I shall give you one last chance. Christine Daae has returned to you and I am anxious; her career should progress. In the new production of 'Il Muto' you will therefore cast Carlotta as the pageboy and put Miss Daae in the roll of Countess. The role which Miss Daae plays calls for charm and appeal. The role of the pageboy is silent which makes my casting, in a word, ideal. I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in box five, which will be kept empty for me. Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I remain, Gentlemen, your obedient servant. O.G.'"

There was a dead silence. This longest note was by far the most threatening and it was obvious that none of them had written it. At least it was to Raoul.

"Christine!" Carlotta shouted, waking everyone from their daze. Her face was contorted in jealous rage. André spoke all of their frustrations and confusion with "Whatever next?" Carlotta continued "It's all a ploy to help Christine!" and Firmin let out "This is insane…"

"I know who sent this!" Carlotta declared. "The Vicomte, her lover!" she accused, nearly spitting at Raoul. Somehow Raoul couldn't take her seriously.

"Indeed. Can you believe this?" he said to the blonde girl who seemed lost in thought. Carlotta broke into her native Italian and was followed by her entourage and the managers who were begging her to ignore the note. When he saw Madame Giry take off with the group he decided to follow. He had to talk to her.

The crowd had made it to the main dressing room before he caught up to her. He reached out his hand to grab her shoulder but Firmin made a loud announcement. "Miss Daae will be playing the pageboy, the silent role." André joined in when they announced "Carlotta will be playing the lead." Raoul let his hand drop to his side. Were they serious?

Carlotta stood from her divan and stormed through the crowded hallway and Raoul was swept up in the entourage once more. He wanted to speak to Mme. Giry but the sounds of Carlotta and Piangi noisily protesting and the managers pleading would have drown him out so he didn't try. He heard her say, more to herself, "Who scorn his word, beware to those. The Angel sees. The Angel knows…"

Raoul remembered Christine saying something about an Angel of Music. Could this angel be real? Could he be the one behind this? Surely there was a better explanation.

Raoul finally decided to say something to Mme. Giry, over the noise. "I must see her!" he said, having to raise his voice to be heard. Apparently it didn't work as she continued speaking.

"This hour shall see your darkest fear. The Angel sees. The Angel hears." At first she seemed to be speaking to herself. Then he realized she was speaking to him but trying to be inconspicuous so as not to frighten her daughter, who was still with them. Raoul pondered the words as they continued down the main staircase to the door. 'What new surprises lie in store?' he wondered, fairly sure the others were thinking the same thing.

Outside the door was a throng of fans. They prevented Carlotta from leaving and she smiled with a fake modesty. When the frontmost man tried to give Carlotta a pink rose to give to Christine she backed away and slammed the doors. Everyone silently stared at the prima donna who was on the verge of tears.

Knowing how to milk the situation, André spoke first. "Your public needs you." Firmin piped in, understanding the situation. "We need you, too."

Carlotta's face turned sour. "Would you not rather have your precious little igenue?" The two men shook their heads nervously. "Signora, no. The world wants you!" Raoul noticed Madame Giry roll her eyes and couldn't help feeling the same.


	10. Prima Donna

Caught up in the whirlwind once more, Raoul was shuffled back into the dressing room. The smell of hundreds of pink roses and expensive colognes permeated the room and made him a little dizzy and nauseas. Was the room this pink before or was he imagining things? His train of thought was interrupted by a little balding man calling out his name rather rudely over the praise the managers and assistants were singing to La Carlotta.

"Hey Pretty Boy! Gimme a hand with this thing!" said the little man as he waved Raoul over to him. He was referring to a very large portrait of Carlotta in the Elissa costume from Hannibal, looking pious and holding the head of some man on a platter. He vaguely wondered who the decapitated man was, but figured it was no one important and raised the side of the portrait closest to him. The little man did the same with his side.

"If Daae really were a boy, I might become a mandrake," the man said in a sly way. Raoul didn't find this funny at first, but found himself smiling sheepishly as he realized he felt the same way. The two men set the portrait down in front of some plain posters and the man wiped his forehead on his sleeve. "Then again, you know she's all woman, don't you?" he added. Raoul's face darkened as he glared at the man. The bald man jumped against the wall as he stormed out the door and into the hallway.

Raoul didn't know where he was going, and he frankly didn't care. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the foyer and into the hallway with him, but he didn't hear them. All that he heard was the sounds he heard in the dressing room that night and Mme. Giry cryptically warning him. Who is this Angel of Music and why does everyone seem to know but him?

Eventually he found himself in the chapel of the opera house. Dank stone walls absorbed the light emitted by candelabras. A few of the votive candles were lit here and there, giving the stained glass windows an eerie glow. "Christine spoke of an angel…" he repeated to himself, reminded by the cherubim on the windows. A voice seemed to respond to him, but he could not pick out from where. It was as if the walls themselves were dripping with whispers, but he couldn't make them out. _She will sing… You shall obey… She will sing_…

The sounds were driving him mad and he had to hurry back out of the chapel. "Orders, warnings, lunatic demands…" he said aloud, trying to purge the liquid sound from his mind. There was only one thing to do; talk to Mme. Giry. She knew more than she was letting on, and he intended to find out just what that was. "I must see these demands are rejected."

But when Raoul found Mme. Giry, she was busy with the ballet girls and wouldn't see anyone. Before her assistant shut the door on his face, he caught a glimpse of the mother and daughter's faces. They were beyond worry and full of fear, but they pressed on. The managers were busy obeying La Carlotta's every whim. What's worse, Christine wouldn't even look at him from across the room. Every time he tried to talk to her, she would hurry away and speak with her directors. He finally accepted that he wasn't wanted there, and reluctantly headed home.

Upon returning, Philippe pulled him aside and cornered him against the wall. He had a look of concern and anger in his eyes and he spoke gravely. "Raoul, what is wrong with you? You've been acting strangely the past few days and it's worrying the women to death, especially poor Adeliz. You know how fragile she is and how much she cares about you."

Raoul merely scoffed and averted his eyes. "It seems like she's the only one who cares. When was the last time you took a genuine interest in what anyone does or thinks but yourself?" He was growing angry and stared right back into his older brother's deep blue eyes.

"I'm taking an interest in you now! You might not realize it, but I really care about you and I'm worried. You're my brother and I don't want anything to happen to you." For once, there was a genuine look of compassion in his eyes, and Raoul felt a pull on his heart. But it couldn't last.

"If I'm worrying you so much," he said quietly, "maybe you should go. There's nothing left for you here. You should marry and settle down while a woman will still have you. You can't be pretty forever."

Philippe's disposition softened as he took in what Raoul had said. "I know. I'm already becoming an old man and have no heir. But I will need time. Women nowadays don't just fall off the vine. You have to woo them." He game a halfhearted smile and put his hand on Raoul's shoulder. "I do think I have found someone. La Sorelli."

Raoul raised an eyebrow. "The prima ballerina of the opera company? I thought she was just a fancy of yours."

"She was," Philippe admitted. "But she has become so much more to me. She is kind and gentle and a wonderful girl. And when she dances, feelings come no man can quell." For the first time in Raoul's life, he saw his brother's eyes light up. He was like a child speaking of a magical world. Raoul felt something soften in his heart and a smile crept across his face.

"Then you should tell her," he offered. The brothers looked at each other and smiled as they had never before; they smiled like brothers.

"I shall. At the premier of Il Muto next month. Thank you, Brother." Philippe patted Raoul's shoulder one more time before heading off to his own room. Raoul watched him as he disappeared down the hallway and his countenance darkened once more. Il Muto. The Opera Ghost had given them explicit directions and they were choosing to ignore them. What new surprises are in store?


	11. In the Chapel

A month came and went, and the windy onset of fall wasn't the only thing chilling the air of the Opera Populaire. Despite almost daily visits, Raoul couldn't get any information out of anyone. The ballerinas would twitter amongst themselves and when he tried to approach them, they would only giggle and hurry away like birds. Mdm. Giry was flat out avoiding him and always seemed to be looking to the heavens. The managers would only talk to him in the shortest of sentences and were always on edge. M. Reyer jumped at every cymbal crash. Even La Carlotta and Piangi seemed somewhat ill at ease, though they would never let the other performers see.

But the worst part was that he could only catch quick glances of Christine. He could see her while she was rehearsing, but she would never look into the audience. No matter what M. Reyer said to her, she either turned her face from the seats or looked straight forward over Raoul's head. After rehearsals she would always vanish backstage and he could never find her.

One week before the premier, Raoul was wandering around the back rooms looking for Christine when he saw the little blond girl hurrying out from the chapel, nervously. He recognized her as Mdm. Giry's daughter but when she saw his face, she looked away nervously and tried to brush past him. He caught her by the arm and spun her around, and she stared at him with a look of fear.

"Where is Christine?" he asked, much more demandingly than he intended, and she tried to pull away from him to no avail. She shook her head slightly.

"Mother told me I'm not to let you see her," she replied. Her voice trembled and she seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Why not? Where is she?" he asked again, louder and more forcefully as he tightened his grip on her soft upper arm. She winced a little and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I don't know! She told me you were endangering her and she's my best friend and I don't want to lose her!" He realized that she was struggling against his grip and he let go. Her hand flew to where he had held her and she rubbed it gently, and he was immediately filled with guilt.

"You're a good friend, but I'm not going to hurt her or let anyone else hurt her. Please, tell me where she is. I think I can help her." The little blond girl looked away and pointed into the chapel, reluctantly. He had figured she was down there, but he wanted to get some information out of the girl. Mdm. Giry wanted to keep him away, but now he needed to know why. "What's your name, Dear?"

"Meg Giry, Monsieur. Christine is like a sister to me. It hurts to see her the way she is," she said sadly. She hurried past him and up the stairs. He could hear the pattering of her pointe shoes until she reached the top before they disappeared into the hall. She really was a good person, but he needed to know more about what was going on. So he turned and headed down the last hallway to the arch of the chapel.

A soft glow was emanating through the arch, and Raoul peeked his head through to quietly take a look. Christine was sitting on her shins, still in her pageboy costume, in front of the votive candles. A few here and there were lit, and there was a soft glow around her frame. She was quietly singing the role of the countess, seemingly to herself as she stared straight ahead.

"Poor fool, he makes me laugh, ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, Time I tried to get a better better half…" she sang softly. There was no emotion in her voice and she didn't move. Raoul crept up behind her so she wouldn't hear and reached out his hand to touch her shoulder. His hand was almost on her when she twisted around feverishly. Her face was pallid and her eyes were dark, and she stared at him with a look somewhere between defiance, fear and pleading. He recoiled a bit from the sudden movement and unfamiliar face staring up at him.

"You shouldn't be here," she said, flatly. "I'm not supposed to see you anymore. I have to practice." Christine stood with as little movement as possible and headed toward the arch and stairs. She didn't seem to walk so much as glide as a ghost might. She stopped at the edge of the room and gave another glance back to him. For a split second, he saw a purely imploring look cross her face before the neutral look came back and she left the room. Raoul was left standing alone in the chapel with the soft light of the candles flickering behind him.


	12. Ill Muto

The week came and went and opening night arrived. If "Hannibal" had been crowded, "Il Muto" was jam-packed. It seemed as if all of Paris turned out to see the two sopranos who were at the center of the scandal du jour. Everyone who could read wanted to see the disgraced diva take the lead role and silence the prodigy upon her return. As Raoul waded through the crowd in the lobby, once again attending the opera alone, he could occasionally pick out segments of conversations.

"Shame on that hussy for taking La Carlotta's role!" an older woman sputtered to her older women companions. "Serves her right to have the silent role."

"I feel so bad for poor Mademoiselle Daae. Those managers should be ashamed of themselves!" said a young woman to her escort, who nodded his head in agreement.

While everyone had different opinions on who should play the Countess, most people vocally agreed on one thing: Raoul was also a key player in the drama. As he toiled through the patrons, he could feel eyes all over him. No one seemed particularly angry with him, but they were fascinated by the part each of them imagined he played. Raoul mainly kept his hat down and avoided the eyes of his onlookers until he reached the stairs.

Halfway up the grand staircase, Raoul was stopped by the managers of the Opera Populaire. Firmin was wringing his silk top hat in his hands and André's eyes were darting about the room, nervously. "Dear Vicomte, we have a slight problem with your seating this evening…" Firmin sputtered without looking Raoul in the eye.

"The um… note, if you remember…" André said, under his breath. He was still looking around frantically. Raoul remembered the month before, the notes they had all received. The final one delivered by Md. Giry had demanded that box five, which had been reserved for the Chagnys upon their patronage, remain empty for "O.G.'s" private use. Nothing had seemed to happen during "Hannibal," but the managers were significantly more nervous this time. "I'm not saying there's anything to worry about, but… just in case… you understand…" André continued.

"Gentlemen, I don't believe there are any seats left besides box five. Don't worry yourselves; I'm sure everything will be fine." Raoul smiled, but he had a distinct sinking feeling in his stomach. But he didn't want the managers to worry, so he patted Firmin on the shoulder and brushed past them before either could say anything else.

Raoul shuffled his way past the other patrons with private boxes and made his way into his own box. His heart leapt into his throat upon the first step, and he half expected the floor to fall out from under him as a trap. No such misfortune occurred and, with a sober nod to the managers in the adjacent box, settled into the middle seat. He pretended not to notice the sea of heads below looking up at him and whispering to each other. He was relieved when the gas lights were dimmed and the orchestra began playing the distinctly Baroque overture.

The heavy curtain lifted and out scurried two men and a woman between them, all dressed in huge candy colored clothes and soaring white wigs. As their fans fluttered before their faces, little Meg scuttled out holding a basket, her blonde hair in many perfect curls. Raoul couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked.

"They say that this youth has set my lady's heart aflame!" sang the woman to the man to her left in a decidedly gossipingly way. "His lordship sure would die of shock!" he replied. "His lordship is a laughingstock!" added the other man. "Should he suspect her, God protect her!" continued the woman. "Shame! Shame! Shame!" they all exclaimed, "This shameful lady's bound for Hades! Shame! Shame! Shame!" Meg crossed in front of them and shook her finger, disapprovingly.

Suddenly, the rose curtain behind her spread open and, to her surprise, there sat a woman in a ridiculous pink gown being fondled by a boy, their faces assumed to be kissing behind an upheld fan. Raoul swallowed hard at such a public display of affection, even if it was just a show. The fan was pulled away and La Carlotta smiled widely under her enormous wig while Christine had a look of utter surprise at being discovered. The crowd laughed and applauded, and Raoul gave a soft smile at the sight of Christine acting. She seemed to have no fear during this performance.

La Carlotta handed Christine a bonnet and skirt, and upon putting it on, Christine looks much more like a real girl. "Serafimo, your disguise is perfect!" sang Carlotta, before being interrupted by a knock at the door. "Why who can this be?" Meg ran to where the door was supposed to be and pretended to open it, then ran forward with a look of fear on her face as Piangi made his way in. "Gentle Wife, admit your loving husband!" he proclaimed before not-so-subtly pinching Meg on the rear, which garnered much laughter from the audience.

Christine went to dust some furniture as Carlotta moved forward to greet Piangi. "My Love, I go to England on affairs of state, and must leave you with your new maid!" he said, while audaciously pretending to grab Christine's rear, garnering an appalled look from her. Raoul noticed a sour look crossing Carlotta's face and was unsure if it was her character or she herself showing jealousy. "Though I will happily take the maid with me!" he added, as an aside. He turned away to adjust his excessive clothing, and Carlotta added "The old fool is leaving!" as her own aside.

"Farewell my love!" they sang together and danced a palmer's dance before Piangi pretended to leave and hid behind the 'door'. "Serafimo, away with this pretense!" Carlotta demanded as Christine threw off the maid's costume, to the shock of the confidants. Raoul had completely calmed down and was thoroughly enjoying the show. "You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence!" and they kissed once more behind the fan.

"Poor fool, he makes me laugh, ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, Time I tried to get a better better half! Poor fool, he doesn't know, ho ho ho ho ho. Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho, If he knew the truth he'd never ever go-"

"Did I not instruct that box five was to be kept empty?" a disembodied voice boomed through the theater. The orchestra came to a screeching silence, the actors stopped dead in their tracks, and heads turned in every direction. Raoul jumped in his seat and looked toward the ceiling with everyone else. At that moment, he wished he were anywhere else in the world.

"Your part is silent, little toad!" was the next thing he heard. Apparently Christine had said something and angered La Carlotta, who gave an apologetic smile and hurried off stage for a quick throat spritz and hurried back, while Christine and Meg exchanged nervous glances. "It's good, it's good! Maestro, pick up please," Carlotta continued. The orchestra started from several bars earlier and Carlotta began again. "Serafimo, away with this pretense! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my CROOAAK!"

Everyone went dead silent for a moment, before laughing it off. Carlotta, however, was not amused, and continued in a much more timid manner. "Poor fool, he makes me laugh, ha ha ha ha ha… Ha ha CROOAAK! CROOAAK! CROOAAK! CROOAAK!" The audience began laughing hysterically as she cried for her mother and shouted in Italian. The scarlet curtain closed and left one of the confidants on the outside, trying to find the split before hurrying off the side. He was replaced by the managers, who had apparently hurried from their box to stop the show.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize!" Firmin offered. "Uh, the performance will continue in ten minutes time," he continued as he reached behind the curtain and pulled out a bewildered Christine, "when the role of the Countess will be played by Miss Daae!" Raoul rose at this and the audience erupted in cheers as the Firmin hurried her back behind the curtain with a "Thank you." He sat uneasily back down as Firmin continued. "Until then, we would crave your indulgence for a few moments." André spoke, equally uneasily as his partner. "Meanwhile, we would like to give you the ballet from Act Three of tonight's opera," he said before muttering something angrily to Reyer. They hurried off with another "Thank you," and the confidant twirled obliviously back on stage. Despite what just happened, Raoul had to laugh at this man.

The curtain parted once more, exposing half changed scenery and costume crew on stage. General mayhem was ensuing on stage as light music played under them. Eventually things settled down somewhat as girls danced in a forest with uncooperative sheep, and Raoul wondered what on earth happened between the beginning of the opera and act 3. The audience, however, was simply enjoying the disorder. Then it fell from the rafters.

There were no screams at first. The scruffy man's body hung from the noose stiffly and twitched a bit before going limp. Meg was the first to see the body and screeched, followed by the other ballerinas, who huddled together away from the body. The audience gasped in horror and drew back in their seats. Christine's pleading look from the week before flashed in Raoul's mind, and as he hurried out the door from his box, he heard the sickening sound of the body falling to the floor.


	13. On the Roof

As Raoul bounded down the stairs from his box and through the lobby, he saw several groups of people leaving the main theater. Elderly women swooned on their husbands and sons while young children questioned their mothers as to why they had to leave early. He caught a glimpse of the theater and saw that most of the viewers were still there, though there were many cries of horror and a general racket. The man who normally guarded the backstage door was not there, so Raoul burst through the door in search of Christine.

The pandemonium backstage was like nothing Raoul had ever seen. The death of a stagehand caused terror in everyone employed by the theater. Suddenly it wasn't just Carlotta's and Christine's problem; everyone was involved, everyone was at risk. Ballerinas and costumers, prop men and company singers huddled in large areas so as to avoid the shadows that could sweep them away.

As Raoul scanned the backstage area, he saw a flash of bright red that stood out behind pink tutus and black suits. It was Christine in a red cloak at the back of the theater. As soon as he recognized her, she saw him too and ran to meet him. Her hands trembled around his as she grabbed him with a look of determination and fear in her eyes. "Raoul, we're not safe here!" she half shouted over the commotion. Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned with his hand in hers and began up the spiral staircase into the rafters. Her pull was surprisingly strong and he had no choice but to stumble behind her.

"Why have you brought me here? We must return!" Raoul declared as Christine let his hand fall. She walked with a hurried determination as he stumbled up the stairs, trying to keep up.

"Can't go back there, he'll kill you," she said, turning to him over her shoulder without stopping. Her voice was clear and strong as the sound of commotion faded below them. "His eyes will find us there, those eyes that burn."

"Christine, don't say that! Don't even think it!" he responded, as much for his own sake as for hers. Raoul tried to rationalize to himself that they were safe, that all of this was a series of coincidences. But it wasn't working.

"If he has to kill a thousand men, the phantom of the opera will kill and kill again!" she continued. She seemed to be talking more to herself now and didn't turn to look back. She seemed to know exactly where she was going, and Raoul had to trust her knowledge of the building to get them somewhere safe.

"This phantom is a fable! Believe me!" Raoul pleaded, but she wasn't listening. Higher and higher they climbed, and nothing more could be heard of the commotion on the ground floor. They were alone in the attics among the costumes and props from shows that hadn't been performed in years. It was eerie and poorly lit by the gas lights downstairs, and he couldn't help but glance into the shadows for signs of movement.

Christine began to mumble to herself, seeming to have forgotten that Raoul was there at all. "My god, who is this man? This mask of death?" he questioned. "Whose is this voice you hear with every breath?" They were finally running out of stairs and he could see the roof above them on the final spiral staircase.

"And in this labyrinth, where night is blind, the phantom of the opera is here," she said, audibly. It sounded as if she had heard this phrase before and was repeating it. At the top of the stairs she paused to tie the front part of her hair back, giving Raoul time to pass her and burst out of the door.

"Inside your mind!" Raoul finished for her. The air outside was a cold but welcome change from the musty air in the rafters of the theater. He turned to face the door in time to see Christine take one last glance inside the building and close the door. "There is no phantom of the opera!" he declared, and she spun around to face him. He noticed for the first time that she was in a state of great undress, with only a red cloak covering her pink corset and petticoat. Despite the chill she must have felt, her face was red with distress.

"Raoul, I've been there! To his world of unending night. To a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness," she said, walking slowly toward him but not looking at him. He noticed a blood red rose with a black ribbon in her left hand that she raised toward her chest. "Darkness," she repeated, as if reliving a saddening experience. Suddenly, she looked back up to him with a look of pure conviction. "Raoul, I've seen him! Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face… so distorted, deformed… it was hardly a face in that darkness."

She was now holding the rose directly in front of her chest, looking into it as if it held memories she was uncertain she wanted to keep. Whether this monster was real or not, it was real to her. She turned and walked past him in a sort of daze, a slight smile on her lips. "But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound. It that night there was music in my mind. And through music, my soul began to soar, and I heard as I'd never heard before…"

"What you heard was a dream and nothing more," Raoul reasoned. He began to approach her before she began again, to herself.

"But in his eyes, all the sadness in the world. Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore." She walked away soberly, so that she appeared to either be in a wedding or at a funeral. She looked so small and fragile, as if a slight wind could simply blow her away into the night. All Raoul wanted to do was hold her close, let her know everything would be all right. He found himself walking toward her, whispering her name.

"Christine. Christine…"


	14. All I Ask of You

As Raoul wrapped his arms around her shoulders, he could feel Christine jump a little and look around, as though she didn't know where the touch came from. She was still breathing very rapidly and he could feel her shallow chest pumping the freezing air in and out. The floral smell of her long, chestnut curls infiltrated his nose and dizzied him a little. She finally turned to him, slowly, as though she had just remembered that he was ever there.

Christine's pleading eyes locked into Raoul's stare and the two couldn't part gazes. His hand ran down her soft arm to found her trembling hand, and he held it in a gentle grasp as lead her, slowly, away from the edge closer to the light of the building. The soft crunching of the snow beneath their feet was the only sound, and it was as if they were the only ones in all of France. He heard a faint slipping, but he couldn't break from her eyes to see the cause. She looked away for a moment, as if she were embarrassed, then looked back as he drew her closer.

"No more talk of darkness," he whispered, gently holding her arms. "Forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you." He reached out and touched her flushed cheek, which was cold to the touch but still radiated warmth from inside. She simply looked up at him with the eyes of a puppy looking for comfort from the sounds of a storm. "Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you," he said softly, a slight smile spreading across his face as understanding spread across hers.

"Say you'll love me every waking moment," she answered. Her face slowly lit up with a dreamy smile as she spoke. "Turn my head with talk of summer time. Say you need me with you now and always." She looked down and placed her hands in his before gazing at him once more, full of hope and love. "Promise me that all you say is true. That's all I ask of you."

He could no longer hold back, and he gently pulled her into a hug. He needed to hold her close, to let her know he was there for her. "Let me be your shelter, let me be your light," he whispered again before realizing how forward it was of him to embrace a woman in such a way and pulling away again. "I'm here, nothing will harm you. Your fears are far behind you," he told her as he began to lead her closer to the building. She broke away and began to walk on her own, not dissimilar to how she had done while describing her encounter with The Phantom.

"All I want is freedom, a world with no more night," she said, some strength returning to her voice. She turned with a comforted smile upon her flushing lips. "And you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me…" She came closer to him, taking his own hands in hers. She seemed completely at ease with him now.

They walked, hand in hand, across the roof a little more, smiling at each other as they had as children all those years ago. "Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude," Raoul declared. He led her in front of him as he stood behind her, wrapping his arms comfortingly around her waist. Her hand overlapped his before he began playing with her thick curls a little. "Say you need me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that's all I ask of you." He could feel her heart beating in time with his as she smiled dreamily at him. She reached up her hand to his and led it to cross her chest in a close embrace, and he kissed her hair as they stood as one.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word, and I will follow you," she said as she turned to face him again.

"Share each day with me," Raoul began.

"Each night, each morning," Christine finished. It was if they could read each others' thoughts. She looked up at him earnestly. "Say you love me."

Raoul simply replied "You know I do." She smiled, contently, at him as his hand found its way to the back of her head, her hair running through his fingers.

"Love me, that's all I ask of you," they said at the same time.

He had never kissed a woman, and he was fairly sure she had never kissed a man. Regardless, the world melted away as their lips touched for the first time. They were cold and a little chapped from the wind and cold, but they quickly softened and warmed upon touching his. It was something completely new, but something so familiar at the same time. He felt just like a kid again, like they were in Gustav's attic once more and he were smiling upon them. He lifted her up and spun her around as they smiled like children. He settled her feet back on the ground and their lips met again, still smiling as they kissed.

They pulled away and their smiles faded as they realized just how serious they were. All he wanted to do was have her near him, to protect her, and for her to be happy. "Anywhere you go, let me go too," he repeated, staring intently at her.

"Love me, that's all I ask of you," she whispered as they kissed again, more seriously and meaningfully than before. They barely touched this time, as if they were afraid the other would vanish and it turned out to be nothing more than a dream.

Suddenly, Christine pulled away. Raoul's eyes didn't open right away, but when they did she was looking at him with an apologetic look. "I must go; they'll wonder where I am. Come with me, Raoul!" she said, taking his hand. They walked, hand in hand, as they had as children.

As they walked, he realized that he hadn't actually said he loved her when she asked him to. "Christine. I love you," he said, tenderly, as they smiled to each other. They kissed once more, innocently, and she began leading him toward the door.

"Order your fine horses, be with them at the door," she instructed as they climbed the steps to the door. She began to open the door as Raoul joined her on the top step.

"And soon, you'll be beside me?" he asked. She simply looked up at him again with a smile.

"You'll guard me and you'll guide me," she answered as they made their way through the door into the attics. She stopped him once she closed the door to kiss him quickly again, and before she could head down the stairs he stopped her.

"Christine, are you sure about this? Are you really willing to give up everything?" Raoul stared down into her big, glowing eyes. He didn't want her to make a big mistake and end up more miserable than she already was.

"I've never been surer of anything," she replied with a smile. "We can stay at my godmother's home. No one will find us there. I'll let them know I'm leaving and meet you outside the stables, Dearest." She backed toward the stairs and held his hands as long as she could before having to let go and hurry down the stairs.

Raoul stood in the top of the attic, listening to Christine's footfalls fading into the void below. He turned to open the door back onto the roof, unsure why. He thought better of it, and began descending the stairs a few flights behind her.


	15. Fleeing the Opera House

By the time Raoul made it down to the stables, everyone there had heard the commotion and had vacated, leaving the horses and carriages unattended. He was quickly able to find the two white horses he had brought from his family's stables and began hitching them up to the carriage with the large decorative C on the back. With all of the commotion audible through the open woodwork, the horses somehow remained completely calm. They had no concept of the monstrosities that were occurring deeper within the building.

Raoul sat in silence, save for the occasional bored stamping of one of the horses. He didn't realize it on the roof so much, but it was actually quite cold. Snow was falling gently outside the open stables, illuminated by the gaslights that lined the streets. The magic of the rooftop was starting to wear off, and the gravity of the situation was beginning to descend upon him. He found himself looking about, nervously, for any sign of movement that was out of the ordinary.

"All right, Raoul. Let's go," said a tiny voice beside him. Raoul jumped and turned to see Christine seated beside him on the seat. He hadn't noticed her arrival, but he did notice that she had thrown a second, navy cloak around her shoulders. Apparently she was starting to feel the cold as well. She looked up at him, and then leaned on his shoulder as he set the horses in motion.

"I'm afraid I don't remember the way to your godmother's house," Raoul admitted. He did, however, remember the days he spent there as a child. In the few years before Gustav died, he and Christine had lived with Professor and Madam Valerius in Paris. They had all met in Sweden where the professor was so enamored with the father and daughter that he had invited them to live with him and his wife upon settling down.

It was during the time when the four were living together that Raoul met Christine on that day on the beach. It wasn't long after that his aunt discovered who Christine's father was and insisted he take violin lessons from the newly-settled traveling master. Although he wasn't particularly skilled at the violin, he looked forward to the daily lessons and spending time with the Daaes. He was as much in love with Gustav as he was with Christine, although in an entirely different way. Gustav was the passionate, caring father he never had while Christine was his first love.

After every lesson, the children would beg Gustav to tell them stories. He had traveled Europe before marrying, and he had collected stories from all over the continent. He regaled those tales to the children's willing ears after each lesson, upon request, until the sun had set or later. Raoul was frequently scolded for returning home late, but it was worth the punishments to hear the dark stories and catch Christine when she flew at him in fear.

Their favorite stories featured a girl named Little Lotte, who found herself in all sorts of mischief. By the end of each tale, she was somehow saved by the omniscient Angel of Music. Raoul would always imagine Christine as Little Lotte and even gave her the nickname, while Christine would always fantasize about the angel. She was so enamored with this angel her father promised her that when he was in heaven, he would send the Angel of Music to her.

Only one year after they had met, Raoul's family moved away to Rouen. It was common for his family to move around France to their various homes, but he couldn't help but feel that this time his parents wanted to move him away from the poor family. Though his parents introduced the young boy to dozens of rich little girls, he only thought of Christine. So for what seemed like a lifetime, Raoul kissed little girls' hands and rolled his eyes as they giggled coquettishly.

By chance, Philippe had to return to Paris for a brief business trip two years later and Raoul was able to convince his parents to let him go as well. The first thing he did was return to the Valerius home, but Madam Valerius was the only one there. In Raoul's absence, first Professor Valerius and, later, Gustav Daae had passed away. Madam Valerius, now with no source of income other than the meager inheritance left by her husband, could no longer care for young Christine and had given her to her friend Madam Giry to take to the opera house. Though distraught, Raoul was forced to put the memories of Daaes from his mind and move on. He never picked up a violin again.

That was ten years ago. Now, Christine was beside him again and they were on their way back to Madam Valerius' house. Aside from the occasional direction, she was very quiet and stared blankly ahead. Fear must have settled into her as it had Raoul minutes before. Whoever this monster was, he was clearly willing to commit the greatest sin for her benefit. This no doubt had the opposite effect on her than he intended.

"What did the managers say when you told them you were leaving?" Raoul asked. He didn't imagine it went well.

"I didn't tell them. I wrote a note and left it in my dressing room," she replied, not looking at him. The word 'note' made his stomach turn a little. "They were planning to cancel the rest of tonight's performance, but I couldn't hear if they were going to finish the season or not." She pulled the second cloak more closely over her, and an awkward silence fell over the carriage as they continued to one of the hundreds of sinking buildings.

Madam Valerius' home was indistinct from the other residencies of Paris. They had been there hundreds of years and showed their age. Beautiful as they were, they were lopsided from their own weight and poor weather. One had to wonder how they didn't tumble over into the streets.

Raoul stopped the carriage in front of the house and helped Christine onto the road. She took him by the hand and led him to the door and knocked three times. As they waited for an answer, she drew closer to him. The bells of Notre Dame rang twelve times, each toll dying in the stillness of the cold October air.

Raoul was beginning to worry that no one was home when he heard something rattling on the other side of the door. A tiny window on the door slid open, and a pair of grayed, old eyes appeared in the shadows. He was taken aback by the sudden appearance, but Christine seemed to be relieved.

"Mama Valerius!" she exclaimed with a smile on her face. "Do you remember me? Christine Daae?" There was a brief, chilly silence before the eyes on the other side of the door blinked with recognition. The small window slammed shut and a clattering of locks could be heard. The door swung open and there stood a stout woman in a grayed dress at least ten years out of fashion. Her light grayed hair was falling from its bun and over her large, round spectacles that magnified her squinting, graying eyes.

"Well, get yourself in here. No use staying out in the cold, you'll catch your death," she said as she waved the two in. She closed and locked the door, not acknowledging Raoul until she turned around again. "And who is this?" she asked with a contemptible tone.

"Um, Raoul de Chagny, Madam," Raoul uttered. When she showed no sign of recognition, he repeated himself loudly. "Raoul de Chagny. I took music lessons here from Gustav Daae many years ago."

Mama Valerius's face warmed as she finally understood who he was and why he was with her foster daughter. "Well I suppose it was about time. Everyone saw it coming, even my dear old Professor, bless his soul," she said and walked past them toward the stairs. "Hurry now, it's late. I'll show you to your rooms."

As the shaky little woman staggered up the stairs, Christine took Raoul's hand and gave him a relieved look. It seemed as though they would be safe there, away from everything they had feared. But they would also be away from everything they had known for the past decade. No matter how he mulled it over in his head, Raoul knew they had made the right decision, no matter how hard it might seem. At least no one else would die.


	16. The Following Months

The following few weeks in the old slanting house were comparatively slow-paced to the hectic escape Raoul and Christine had made. Mama Valerius was terse but kind with the couple, insisting that they help around the house while they stayed. Nevertheless, there was always food around and the company was good.

Christine and Raoul stayed in separate rooms on either side of the hall while Mama Valerius stayed in her room next to Christine. None of the rooms were particularly large, but each could accommodate one person and Raoul wondered how Mama and Professor Valerius were able to share a room before his death. While Christine was able to retrieve a few outfits from her dressing room before they left, Raoul was only able to leave with what he was wearing. Luckily, Mama Valerius had kept all of her husband's clothes and, while they didn't fit him particularly well because he was much taller and thinner than their previous owner, they were sufficient.

Most days, Raoul made minor repairs to the leaky roof and what have you, while Christine helped their host cook and sew. It was a quiet life, and while it wasn't particularly exciting, they had had enough of excitement for a while. Christine didn't speak very often and frequently had a somewhat sad look upon her face. She would occasionally give him a soft smile, and she never sang.

Once or twice a week, Raoul would be awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of sobbing. It wasn't uncommon for Christine to be heard across the hall, crying in her room. Raoul would always rush to her door and knock, but she always assured him that she was all right and alone. She would always explain the next day that she had horrible nightmares about burning, yellow eyes and frightening sounds. She was never able to remember precisely what happened in these dreams, but she was always shaken afterwards.

After two months with Mama Valerius, while Raoul was out buying some groceries at a small corner shop, he heard his name being called in a familiar voice. He pretended not to notice, but he heard the heavy footfalls of his older brother Philippe racing toward him. A large hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him backward, causing him to drop the cabbage he was examining.

"Good lord, Raoul! Where have you been?" Philippe shouted as Raoul waved his hands in an attempt to stop him from making a scene. Of course, this didn't work, as Philippe was quite hysterical. "Everyone has been worried sick about you! We hear of a murder and then you vanish for a month? What was going through your head, Boy?" By now Philippe was shaking Raoul by the shoulders and making him quite dizzy.

"Philippe, please!" Raoul pleaded. "Stop shaking me and I can explain!" He was finally released and, holding his head a little, began explaining the situation to his out-of-breath brother. "The murderer at the Opera House was a danger to Christine and I. If we hadn't fled, there was an equally high chance that one or both of us would be killed as well. It was our decision to get away from there and we were hoping not to be bothered."

"But what about Mother?" Philippe began before being quickly cut off.

"I need to grow up, Philippe!" Raoul exclaimed, drawing the attention of several passersby. He quickly lowered his voice, but never wavered in his intensity. "Ever since I was little you all have treated me like a child. Well, I'm no longer that scared little boy hiding behind Auntie's apron. What's done is done and I need to live my life. I'm going to stay with Christine and protect her, no matter what. Will you please respect that?"

Philippe just stared at his younger brother. There was such fire in his eyes that he almost had to turn away. In a few seconds he regained his composure and began digging in his coat pocket. He produced a tiny gilded box and handed it to Raoul. A little confused, Raoul opened the box to reveal a tiny ring. A large, clear diamond sat nestled in a ring of tiny pink ones on a simple gold base. Raoul recognized it immediately.

"This is Mother's engagement ring," Philippe explained. "She gave it to me to give La Sorelli when I proposed, but her mother gave me hers and I felt that was a better fit. I hope you use it, and soon. After the disaster I had to wait, but when I asked she said yes. We're to be married at the end of the month. Will you come?"

Raoul kept staring at the ring. He wasn't sure what to say. Propose to Christine? Of course he wanted to, but was she ready? It hadn't been too long since a madman killed for her love. Maybe he would just hang onto this until later. He closed the box and put it in his own pocket, before realizing he had been asked a question. He pondered for a moment, then spoke.

"I'm sorry, Brother, but I couldn't go. I don't want anyone to find me, especially not the family. You have my best wishes. And thank you for this." He patted the pocket where he had put the ring, then his brother's shoulder, then turned to leave. As he began to walk away, he heard Philippe call to him.

"I understand. I wish you well. And I won't tell the family. I hope to see you again!" Raoul simply waved over his shoulder, because he couldn't bare to turn around and show his brother the tears in his eyes.


End file.
